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This "Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen" was written by Finley Peter Dunne in English language.

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Mr. Dooley: In theHearts of HisCountrymenByFinley Peter Dunne

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymenby Finley Peter DunneThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His CountrymenAuthor: Finley Peter DunneRelease Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #13784]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ASCII*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. DOOLEY ***Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the PG Online DistributedProofreading Team.MR. DOOLEYIn the Hearts of His CountrymenByFinley Peter Dunne

TOSIR GEORGE NEWNES, BART.MESSRS. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS LIMITEDAND OTHER PUBLISHERS WHO, UNINVITED, PRESENTEDMR. DOOLEY TO A PART OF THE BRITISH PUBLICPREFACE.The author may excuse the presentation of these sketches to the public onthe ground that, if he did not publish some of them, somebody would, and, if hedid not publish the others, nobody would. He has taken the liberty to dedicatethe book to certain enterprising gentlemen in London who have displayed theirdevotion to a sentiment now widely prevailing in the Music Halls by republishingan American book without solicitation on the author's part. At the same time hebegs to reserve in petto a second dedication to the people of Archey Road,whose secluded gayety he has attempted to discover to the world.

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With the sketches that come properly under the title "Mr. Dooley: In the Heartsof His Countrymen" are printed a number that do not. It has seemed impossibleto a man who is not a Frenchman, and who is, therefore, tremendously excitedover the case, to avoid discussion of the Jabberwocky of the Rennes court-martial as it is reported in America and England. Mr. Dooley cannot lag behindhis fellow Anglo-Saxons in this matter. It is sincerely to be hoped that his smallcontribution to the literature of the subject will at last open the eyes of France tothe necessity of conducting her trials, parliamentary sessions, revolutions, andother debates in a language more generally understood in New York andLondon.F.P.D. DUBLIN, August 30, 1899.CONTENTS. PAGEEXPANSION3A HERO WHO WORKED OVERTIME8RUDYARD KIPLING13LORD CHARLES BERESFORD18HANGING ALDERMEN23THE GRIP30LEXOW35THEIR EXCELLENCIES, THE POLICE41SHAUGHNESSY45TIMES PAST50THE SKIRTS OF CHANCE56WHEN THE TRUST IS AT WORK61A BRAND FROM THE BURNING66A WINTER NIGHT72THE BLUE AND THE GRAY76THE TRAGEDY OF THE AGITATOR82BOYNE WATER AND BAD BLOOD85THE FREEDOM PICNIC92THE IDLE APPRENTICE96

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says, 'is fr-esh liberty r-right off th' far-rm,' he says. 'I can't do annything withye'er proposition,' he says. 'I can't give up,' he says, 'th' rights f'r which f'r fiveyears I've fought an' bled ivry wan I cud reach,' he says. 'Onless,' he says, 'ye'dfeel like buyin' out th' whole business,' he says. 'I'm a pathrite,' he says; 'but I'mno bigot,' he says."An' there it stands, Hinnissy, with th' indulgent parent kneelin' on th' stomachiv his adopted child, while a dillygation fr'm Boston bastes him with an umbrella.There it stands, an' how will it come out I dinnaw. I'm not much iv anexpansionist mesilf. F'r th' las' tin years I've been thryin' to decide whether 'twudbe good policy an' thrue to me thraditions to make this here bar two or three feetlonger, an' manny's th' night I've laid awake tryin' to puzzle it out. But I don'tknow what to do with th' Ph'lippeens anny more thin I did las' summer, befure Iheerd tell iv thim. We can't give thim to anny wan without makin' th' wan thatgets thim feel th' way Doherty felt to Clancy whin Clancy med a frindly call an'give Doherty's childher th' measles. We can't sell thim, we can't ate thim, an' wecan't throw thim into th' alley whin no wan is lookin'. An' 'twud be a disgrace f'r tolave befure we've pounded these frindless an' ongrateful people into insinsibility.So I suppose, Hinnissy, we'll have to stay an' do th' best we can, an' laveAndhrew Carnegie secede fr'm th' Union. They'se wan consolation; an' that is, ifth' American people can govern thimsilves, they can govern annything thatwalks.""An' what 'd ye do with Aggy—what-d'ye-call-him?" asked Mr. Hennessy."Well," Mr. Dooley replied, with brightening eyes, "I know what they'd do withhim in this ward. They'd give that pathrite what he asks, an' thin they'd throw himdown an' take it away fr'm him."

A HERO WHO WORKED OVERTIME."Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "it looks now as if they was nawthin' left f'r meyoung frind Aggynaldoo to do but time. Like as not a year fr'm now he'll be in jail,like Napoleon, th' impror iv th' Fr-rinch, was in his day, an' Mike, th' Burglar, an'other pathrites. That's what comes iv bein' a pathrite too long. 'Tis a good job,whin they'se nawthin' else to do; but 'tis not th' thing to wurruk overtime at. 'Tis asort iv out-iv-dure spoort that ye shud engage in durin' th' summer vacation; but,whin a man carries it on durin' business hours, people begin to get down on him,an' afther a while they're ready to hang him to get him out iv th' way. As Hogansays, 'Th' las' thing that happens to a pathrite he's a scoundhrel.'"Las' summer there wasn't a warmer pathrite annywhere in our imperyaldominions thin this same Aggynaldoo. I was with him mesilf. Says I: 'They'se agood coon,' I says. 'He'll help us f'r to make th' Ph'lippeens indepindint on us f'rsupport,' I says; 'an', whin th' blessin's iv civilization has been extinded to his

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beloved counthry, an',' I says, 'they put up intarnal rivinue offices an' post-offices,' I says, 'we'll give him a good job as a letter-carrier,' I says, 'where hewon't have annything to do,' I says, 'but walk,' I says."An' so th' consul at Ding Dong, th' man that r-runs that end iv th' war, he saysto Aggynaldoo: 'Go,' he says, 'where glory waits ye,' he says. 'Go an' sthrike ablow,' he says, 'f'r ye'er counthry,' he says. 'Go,' he says. 'I'll stay, but you go,' hesays. 'They's nawthin' in stayin', an' ye might get hold iv a tyrannical watch or apocket book down beyant,' he says. An' off wint th' brave pathrite to do his jooty.He done it, too. Whin Cousin George was pastin' th' former hated Castiles, whowas it stood on th' shore shootin' his bow-an-arrow into th' sky but Aggynaldoo?Whin me frind Gin'ral Merritt was ladin' a gallant charge again blank catredges,who was it ranged his noble ar-rmy iv pathrites behind him f'r to see that no wanattackted him fr'm th' sea but Aggynaldoo? He was a good man thin,—a goodnoisy man."Th' throuble was he didn't know whin to knock off. He didn't hear th' wurrukbell callin' him to come in fr'm playin' ball an' get down to business. Says meCousin George: "Aggynaldoo, me buck,' he says, 'th' war is over,' he says, 'an'we've settled down to th' ol' game,' he says. 'They're no more heroes. All iv thimhas gone to wurruk f'r th' magazines. They're no more pathrites,' he says.'They've got jobs as gov'nors or ar-re lookin' f'r thim or annything else,' he says.'All th' prom'nint saviors iv their counthry,' he says, 'but mesilf,' he says, 'is busypreparin' their definse,' he says. 'I have no definse,' he says; 'but I'm where theycan't reach me,' he says. 'Th' spoort is all out iv th' job; an', if ye don't come in an'jine th' tilin masses iv wage-wurrukers,' he says, 'ye won't even have th' credit ivbein' licked in a gloryous victhry,' he says. 'So to th' woodpile with ye!' he says;'f'r ye can't go on cillybratin' th' Foorth iv July without bein' took up f'r disordherlyconduct,' he says."An' Aggynaldoo doesn't undherstand it. An' he gathers his Archery Club ar-round him, an' says he: 'Fellow-pathrites,' he says, 'we've been betrayed,' hesays. 'We've been sold out without,' he says, 'gettin' th' usual commission,' hesays. 'We're still heroes,' he says; 'an' our pitchers is in th' pa-apers,' he says.'Go in,' he says, 'an' sthrike a blow at th' gay deceivers,' he says. 'I'll sell ye'erlives dearly,' he says. An' th' Archery Club wint in. Th' pathrites wint up again aband iv Kansas sojers, that was wanst heroes befure they larned th' hay-foot-sthraw-foot, an' is now arnin' th' wages iv a good harvest hand all th' year ar-round, an' 'd rather fight than ate th' ar-rmy beef, an' ye know what happened.Some iv th' poor divvles iv heroes is liberated fr'm th' cares iv life; an' th' r-rest ivthim is up in threes, an' wishin' they was home, smokin' a good see-gar withmother."An' all this because Aggynaldoo didn't hear th' whistle blow. He thought th'boom was still on in th' hero business. If he'd come in, ye'd be hearin' that JamesHaitch Aggynaldoo 'd been appointed foorth-class postmasther at Hootchey-Kootchey; but now th' nex' ye know iv him 'll be on th' blotther at th' polis station:'James Haitch Aggynaldoo, alias Pompydoor Jim, charged with carryin'concealed weepins an' ray-sistin' an officer.' Pathriteism always dies when ye

RUDYARD KIPLING."I think," said Mr. Dooley, "th' finest pothry in th' wurruld is wrote be that frindiv young Hogan's, a man be th' name iv Roodyard Kipling. I see his pomes in th'pa-aper, Hinnissy; an' they're all right. They're all right, thim pomes. They waswan about scraggin' Danny Deever that done me a wurruld iv good. They was ala-ad I wanst knew be th' name iv Deever, an' like as not he was th' same man.He owed me money. Thin there was wan that I see mintioned in th' war newswanst in a while,—th' less we f'rget, th' more we raymimber. That was a hotpome an' a good wan. What I like about Kipling is that his pomes is right off th'bat, like me con-versations with you, me boy. He's a minyit-man, a r-ready potethat sleeps like th' dhriver iv thruck 9, with his poetic pants in his boots besidehis bed, an' him r-ready to jump out an' slide down th' pole th' minyit th' alarmsounds."He's not such a pote as Tim Scanlan, that hasn't done annything since th'siege iv Lim'rick; an' that was two hundherd year befure he was bor-rn. He'sprisident iv th' Pome Supply Company,—fr-resh pothry delivered ivry day at ye'erdure. Is there an accident in a grain illyvator? Ye pick up ye'er mornin' pa-aper,an' they'se a pome about it be Roodyard Kipling. Do ye hear iv a manhole coverbein' blown up? Roodyard is there with his r-ready pen. ''Tis written iv Cashum-Cadi an' th' book iv th' gr-reat Gazelle that a manhole cover in anger is tindegrees worse thin hell.' He writes in all dialects an' anny language, plain an'fancy pothry, pothry f'r young an' old, pothry be weight or linyar measuremint,pothry f'r small parties iv eight or tin a specialty. What's the raysult, Hinnissy?Most potes I despise. But Roodyard Kipling's pothry is aisy. Ye can skip throughit while ye're atin' breakfuss an' get a c'rrect idee iv th' current news iv th' day,—who won th' futball game, how Sharkey is thrainin' f'r th' fight, an' how mannyvotes th' pro-hybitionist got f'r gov'nor iv th' State iv Texas. No col' storage pothryf'r Kipling. Ivrything fr-resh an' up to date. All lays laid this mornin'."Hogan was in to-day readin' Kipling's Fridah afthernoon pome, an' 'tis a goodpome. He calls it 'Th' Thruce iv th' Bear.' This is th' way it happened: RoodyardKipling had just finished his mornin' batch iv pothry f'r th' home-thrade, an' had ethis dinner, an' was thinkin' iv r-runnin' out in th' counthry f'r a breath iv fr-resh air,

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whin in come a tillygram sayin' that th' Czar iv Rooshia had sint out a circularletther sayin' ivrybody in th' wurruld ought to get together an' stop makin' war an'live a quite an' dull life. Now Kipling don't like the czar. Him an' th' czar fell outabout something, an' they don't speak. So says Roodyard Kipling to himsilf, hesays: 'I'll take a crack at that fellow,' he says. 'I'll do him up,' he says. An' so hewrites a pome to show that th' czar's letter's not on th' square. Kipling's like me,Hinnissy. When I want to say annything lib-lous, I stick it on to me Uncle Mike.So be Roodyard Kipling. He doesn't come r-right out, an' say, 'Nick, ye're a liar!'but he tells about what th' czar done to a man he knowed be th' name ivMuttons. Muttons, it seems, Hinnissy, was wanst a hunter; an' he wint out to takea shot at th' czar, who was dhressed up as a bear. Well, Muttons r-run him down,an' was about to plug him, whin th' czar says, 'Hol' on,' he says,—'hol' on there,'he says. 'Don't shoot,' he says. 'Let's talk this over,' he says. An' Muttons, bein' afoolish man, waited till th' czar come near him; an' thin th' czar feinted with hisleft, an' put in a right hook an' pulled off Muttons's face. I tell ye 'tis so. He jus'hauled it off th' way ye'd haul off a porous plasther,—raked off th' whole ivMuttons's fr-ront ilivation. 'I like ye'er face,' he says, an' took it. An' all this time,an' 'twas fifty year ago, Muttons hasn't had a face to shave. Ne'er a one. So hegoes ar-round exhibitin' th' recent site, an' warnin' people that, whin they ar-reshootin' bears, they must see that their gun is kept loaded an' their face is nailedon securely. If ye iver see a bear that looks like a man, shoot him on th' spot, or,betther still, r-run up an alley. Ye must niver lose that face, Hinnissy."I showed th' pome to Father Kelly," continued Mr. Dooley."What did he say?" asked Mr. Hennessy."He said," Mr. Dooley replied, "that I cud write as good a wan mesilf; an' hetook th' stub iv a pencil, an' wrote this. Lemme see—Ah! here it is:—'Whin he shows as seekin' frindship with paws that're thrust in thine,That is th' time iv pearl, that is th' thruce iv th' line.'Collarless, coatless, hatless, askin' a dhrink at th' bar,Me Uncle Mike, the Fenyan, he tells it near and far,'Over an' over th' story: 'Beware iv th' gran' flimflam,There is no thruce with Gazabo, th' line that looks like a lamb.'"That's a good pome, too," said Mr. Dooley; "an' I'm goin' to sind it to th' nex'meetin' iv th' Anglo-Saxon 'liance."

LORD CHARLES BERESFORD."I see be th' pa-apers," said Mr. Dooley, "that Lord Char-les Beresford is in ourmist, as Hogan says."